Chapter Fourteen
“. . . Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Jerome listened to the words of Robert’s chaplain, and let them sink into his bones. Forsake all others. He, who had never been constant or faithful in his life. But for Ava, I will.
“I will,” he responded, looking down into Ava’s face as she raised it to his, her eyes shining with a light that gave him hope that this marriage, begun in such an inauspicious way, and despite his history, might have some chance of success.
“Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Ava repeated her response in a voice that shook slightly. “I will.” Love, honor, and keep him? Did she truly love him, or was it still a girlish infatuation? Would her feelings outlast true knowledge of him behind the facade he had built to shut out the world? The notion was terrifying.
Robert stepped forward at the command of the chaplain and put Ava’s small hand in Jerome’s; Jerome felt it tremble.
Yet she stood straight and kept her chin up, a tremulous smile upon her lovely face, as they each repeated their vows to each other in the picturesque chapel with its stained-glass windows, white filigree decorations, polished wooden pews, and abundance of flowers.
This place had born witness to each of his friends’ marriages. And now it was his turn.
“I, Jerome, take thee Ava, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”
The words resonated in a terrifying way, as if he had crossed a barrier he could never step back from. He had given his word. His word to God and to Ava and to everyone present in this chapel to witness their marriage. The gravitas of the moment was imprinted on his soul.
And then it was Ava’s turn. Her eyes glistened and glowed as she made her promises.
“. . . in sickness and in health, to love, cherish . . .” He prayed fervently that she would, his fingers tightening on hers instinctively, battling the flutter of sick terror in his stomach.
This was why he had set his face against marriage for so long.
Fear. The fear that while he could fool the world, he could not fool a wife, a woman who would live intimately with him and know him better than even his best friends or his sister.
And finally, the ring, by which she was bound to him irrevocably and forever. The outward symbol of her willingness to trust in his protection and care. As he slipped it on her slender finger, he swallowed against a thickened throat.
It is done. No one can separate us now. She is mine, to love and protect and care for. God help me to do so.
*
Leaving the chapel with her hand tucked into Jerome’s arm, Ava felt full up to the brim with equal parts happiness and trepidation.
He had spoken his vows with such purpose, his eyes so intensely blue and blazing with an inner light that set her pulse racing.
Could he say those words and not mean them?
Love me, comfort me, honor, and keep me, forsaking all others .
. . to love and to cherish. And the final part when he put the ring on my finger—“with my body I thee worship.” Gosh, that felt positively wicked!
Ava couldn’t suppress the bubble of happiness that surfaced as they emerged from the chapel to the applause and showering of rice and rose petals in which they were doused.
She was smiling so widely her eyes crinkled.
Her gaze swept the assembled company and stumbled over her mother’s tearful face.
Mama averted her gaze, an expression of anguish in her eyes, and Ava’s bubble of happiness was pricked.
Why was Mama so sad? Shouldn’t she be happy for her on this special day?
How could Mama believe ill of Jerome? He was a good man; Ava just knew it in her bones.
She looked up at Jerome, but he was being patted on the back by his friends Emrys and Deo and not looking at her.
But then he turned his attention back to her and, with a smile that lifted her heart, put an arm around her waist and shepherded her up the steps and into the house. Ava’s heart filled with warmth at this proprietorial sign. She was his now. And he was hers. Nothing could come between them.
The wedding breakfast was to be held in the ballroom, followed by dancing. As was the tradition for a Layne wedding, the servants were included in the celebrations. Additional staff from the village had been hired to deputize for them in serving the food and drink.
While the whole affair had come about in a scrambling manner, the end result was so nearly like she had dreamed it would be, Ava was soon caught up in the fairy tale of it.
Especially when Jerome swept her into his embrace for the bridal waltz.
Circling the room in his arms, his deep-blue gaze fixed on hers, she let herself fall headlong into bliss.
After the last three weeks of misery she had endured, the guilt and remorse, this felt not like vindication exactly, but perhaps a reward for penance served.
Sarah had given them the rose suite for their wedding night and moved all their belongings there. It had only one bedchamber but two dressing rooms.
When Ava rose to retire, Jerome stood with her and murmured, “I will join you in half an hour. Is that long enough?”
She nodded, blushing. Leaving the ballroom escorted by Sarah and her mother, Ava was conscious of a fluttering of anticipation in her stomach.
She had endured an embarrassing conversation with her mother that morning, which, from Ava’s perspective, was unnecessary.
She had been shocked by her little sister Ingrid’s knowledge, but it was hardly less than her own.
What she couldn’t do was confess to Mama that what the dowager blushingly tried to convey was not news to her.
Mama’s convulsive hug and tearful eyes did make her want to ask her what Jerome had done to make her dislike him so, but then Sarah had appeared, and they’d had no more privacy after that.
Ava knew very well what to expect on her wedding night and was looking forward to it immensely. She fully expected Jerome to be an accomplished lover and to enjoy the experience. “With my body I thee worship . . .” Yes please! I cannot wait!
Thus, by the time she had been divested of her bridal finery, washed and doused in rose water, had her hair brushed out and her body clad in a wickedly transparent white nightgown trimmed with lace, and got rid of her well-meaning maid, mother, and sister-in-law, she was in quite a fever of impatience for Jerome to appear.
She dithered about where to wait for him and finally decided on the chair by the fireplace.
The room was lit by three candelabra, enough to see by, but dim enough for intimacy.
He was a little late, and she began to fret, but then suddenly the door to his dressing room opened, and he was there, standing in the doorway dressed only in a robe and looking positively delicious.
She sprang up from her chair and just barely restrained herself from running across the room to fling herself into his arms.